


Welcome Home – What's in a name? –

by Hanakoryu



Category: No. 6 (Anime & Manga), No. 6 - All Media Types, No. 6 - Asano Atsuko
Genre: Feelings, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Teenage Dorks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 16:55:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24220183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hanakoryu/pseuds/Hanakoryu
Summary: “It was a promise. Reunion will come.”Easy to say when you're sixteen, hormones messed up after you founded your own existence solely on hatred and revenge and now a third option destroyed everything you believed in, now you are blinded by his light and you don't know who the hell you are nor who you want to be.
Relationships: Nezumi/Shion (No. 6)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 81





	Welcome Home – What's in a name? –

**Author's Note:**

> I felt nostalgic the past days and I read the manga and the novels again... I never get tired of this story as I never get tired to imagine their reunion.  
> Nothing really creative, but I hope you enjoy it! (and pardon my poor English)  
> Ja ne,  
> Hana

**Welcome home**

**_– What's in a name? –_ **

Personal names never had a real meaning in the West Block.

Precisely, they didn't identify humans but precious information and weapons you could use at your advantage to survive another day, to cheat the same system that had treated you like garbage. The same No.6's empire was founded on the complete control of identities, thousands and thousands of collections of data that looked down at human beings as digital objects on a screen. Qualities, beliefs, personalities, looks and expressions were coded specifically to categorize everyone, citizens, rebels and garbage in the same way. No matter who you were, if the button delete was pressed your data would be simply archived and no-one would be aware of your sudden departure or, in case, explained in the most ethical and professional way according to the general law.

People of the West Block felt somehow privileged as they had been stripped of their own identities, forgotten by society and kicked away without a proper reason nor goodbye. As Shion found out rather quickly during his first days as a fugitive, a reputation was valued more than your past life.

It was... sad? No. _No, no, no_. It was simply unfair! They weren't just data! Every single living creature was the definition of smells, sounds, expressions and emotions! Wasn't there a heart beating in their chest, weren't their eyes able to look up at the blue sky, couldn't their lips quirk in a smile of bliss? Didn't their mind process simple and complex thoughts and evolve thanks to any external sign? Weren't those all mere facts each one of them had still an identity after all?!

Nezumi laughed when Shion explained his point of view. The person who taught him all of this, the person who told him that a heartbeat was enough information to know about another human being... That person just laughed at him.

_“Do you really think No.6 cares about who you are, what you like and how many times you shit? Oh yes, they do, but in the meaning to destroy you as they snap their mighty fingers. Haven't they done the same to you too, sweet prince?”_

It was the truth, indeed. Yet, Shion didn't like considering people as a collection of data stored in a database. Human beings weren't just numbers or names carrier of faux reputations, he wanted to know the real person behind the facade.

In the West Block Shion found out Nezumi's aliases. _Eve_ , the skilled and good-looking actor whose singing enchanted in a heartbeat, and _Demon_ , the cruel killer who never got blood on his delicate hands... But no-one knew _Nezumi_ , the child appeared out of nowhere in that stormy night, the young escapee Shion helped without a second thought, the reason he lost his privilege as elite and yet again the man who saved his life multiple times and taught him what it truly meant being human.

No-one but Shion knew about Nezumi's mood swings, how easily irritable he was if you just said the wrong word, how disorganized he was despite his high intellect, how lazy he was and he didn't move a finger when Shion cleaned the place, how picky he could be with food and not to mention his bad sleeping habits... Shion could go on over and over for hours, listing every little detail about the person known as Nezumi, Demon and Eve. True facts.

Thinking about it... Shion still didn't know Nezumi's true name.

Would it be a name really necessary to identify the man he missed every day of his life?

Nezumi… was just _Nezumi_ to Shion.

Four years had passed after the fall of No.6 and Nezumi's departure. Shion never stopped waiting for him, never stopped opening the window during stormy nights in the vague hope to see the man's shadow standing behind the fleeting curtains. He was ready to say “ _Welcome home, Nezumi_ ” as he used to when they lived together in the West Block – Nezumi just glared at him, mocking his cheesy way to greet him like a wifey patiently waiting all day for their husband to come back home.

Shion knew Nezumi didn't really mind it.

†

_“It was a promise. Reunion will come.”_

Easy to say when you're sixteen, hormones messed up after you founded your own existence solely on hatred and revenge and now a third option destroyed everything you believed in, now you are blinded by _his_ light and you don't know who the hell you are nor who you want to be.

Nezumi hoped to find an answer during his endless journey. He had visited places, met people and made experiences that had increasingly enriched his persona. Who knew him well would say his sarcasm was still sharper than a blade and his bad sleeping habits never changed -indeed they worsened if you count the recurring nightmares-, but he had grown definitely more patient and more importantly no-one had died by his hand in the last four years. He didn't need to kill to survive anymore -and if his life was in a danger, there was always a third option.

Yet, there was still no answer to his inner turmoil. Who was he? Who did he want to be? What could he tell of himself? He was a survival of a massacre, the last Singer left on Earth for what he knew, but what else? Past details wouldn't ever define the killer he had been nor the man he was now; his fingers clenched around a fistful of nothing and all he could think of, all he could dream of, was Shion.

How was he doing? Was he still waiting for him after four years?

Nezumi wouldn't ever admit how terribly he missed Shion's “ _Welcome home, Nezumi_ ” after a long tiring day. Even now, returning to his temporary accommodation, his eyes looked for the white-haired boy, probably sitting on the couch reading the mice a book or cooking dinner. He could see his soft smile and his eyes sparkling with joy, as if he was truly happy to see Nezumi. _I'm glad you're still alive_ , they said. Those same eyes had darkened every time Nezumi's life was threatened by death and those gentle hands had killed to protect his life. Hard to forget it.

_«But say, I prithee, is he coming home?»_

_«It seems he hath great care to please his wife.»_

_«Why, mistress, sure my master is horn mad.»_

_«Horn mad, thou villain!»_

_«I mean not cuckold mad,_

_But sure he is stark mad._

_When I desired him to come home to dinner,_

_He asked me for a thousand marks in gold._

_“'Tis dinnertime,” quoth I. “My gold,” quoth he.»_

_“Ehm... The comedy of errors?”_

_“Someone's done their homework, I see.”_

He could even see his past self patting Shion's head with a mocking laugh -just an act to pretend his heartbeat didn't speed up, he wasn't happy someone didn't wish he was dead.

It was still surprising the way Shion easily broke all his beliefs. Emotions weren't a weakness. Someone would hug you tightly when you cried. True smiles were blinding. Sleeping with an arm wrapped around someone else's waist wasn't that bad. It worthed to care and fight for someone. Living creatures were warm.

It was beyond stupid thinking he would find an answer coming back to where everything started. It was beyond stupid just the conviction Shion was the key to the mystery. And it was futile to curse himself for acting like, again yes, a _stupid_ teenager in love when he didn't even know if Shion was still waiting for him.

Yet, the pressing desire to see his smile and hear his voice guided his steps to the city once called No.6.

Shion lived alone in a modest apartment in Lost Town, close to his mother's bakery shop and he still helped her when his work as a member of the Restructural Committee allowed it.

Karan told him that. The encounter wasn't planned, but they practically bumped into each other during Nezumi's first days of wandering in the town while catching up with the news. The woman screamed his name and forgot what looked like two heavy grocery bags in the middle of the street to hug him as if he was her own son. She just did the same the day Nezumi and Shion came back in Lost Town four years ago and, again, Nezumi just stayed still and hesitantly patted her shoulder until her grip loosened.

Now he knew from who Shion took his gentle smile and his excessive need to hug you so tight you almost stopped breathing.

A few moments later he found himself in the bakery shop, sat at the table with a piece of cherry cake and a cup of coffee. The scent of the baking bread flooded out and filled the street, welcoming the new costumers gathering by the shop. It was a clean, slightly sweet, yeasty aroma that somehow smelled warm like you were inhaling a blanket on a cold winter day. It reminded Nezumi of the night he met Shion, their bodies digging into the soft mattress and the smell of clean soapy clothes as they fell asleep hugged to one another.

It was extraordinary what vivid memories a scent could bring up so easily.

"He misses you." Karan told him with her sweet smile, fingers cradling her cup of coffee and eyes glimmering with gratitude. In front of her, there was the man who saved and protected her son's life and she knew how important Nezumi was for Shion. They never spoke about it, but a mother knew what anguished her son's heart.

"He doesn't live that far from here."

Then a small note was pressed into Nezumi's hands before he could object. An address.

"I'm just passing through." Nezumi said in a tone hopefully vague and bored, as if Shion wasn't the reason he came back. 

"It's fine."

Karan smiled again and the way her lips stretched along her cheeks, reaching her eyes, it was so like Shion Nezumi felt a lump in his throat.

He hadn't changed at all in four years.

†

The lightning and the sun upon the cloud were the only brightness in the days during the storm season. The wind ran as if it has been restrained for time out of mind and it was determined to outrun any chaser. The sound of it was a rather familiar song today, as if the howling of the last days yearned for a melody - if Shion listened closely to the notes, his heart was filled with ancient stories of love and peace. His tired body felt regenerated as he watched the trees join in the unfolding scene, as if the change, though abrupt and frightening, was as welcome as a surprise knock on the door.

Uncaring of the raindrops running down his temples, he left the window open and stepped inside the bedroom. A flare of hope warming up his chest. _This night will be night_ , it still said after four years.

†

A month had passed after Nezumi's return. He had spent time wandering through the city, observing the changes, catching up with the news. He even met Inukashi spending time in a park with baby Shionn and honestly he had _almost_ missed their little squabbles. But even Inukashi had changed, there was something in their eyes, warm and protective every time they cradled the little human in their arms. And yet again, there was judgment and probably incomprehension when their question _"Does Shion know you're back?"_ didn't receive any answer.

Nezumi didn't like wasting time and he did mean to see Shion, but it wasn't time yet. They could bump into each other casually as it happened with Karan and Inukashi, yet fate didn't let them meet again. Was it a sign perhaps?

When that night he woke up from a nightmare, welcomed by the thundering sound of raindrops against the windows and the wind blowing sweet melodies through the trees, Nezumi knew _it was the night_.

The wind called his name. 

_Nezumi_ , _Nezumi_ , _Nezumi_.

Of course it wasn't his real name, but at this point it didn't matter if his actual identity was called Nezumi, if Shion recognized him as Nezumi.

_"What's in a name? That which we call a rose_

_By any other name would smell as sweet."_

If memory served him right, he quoted Shakespeare ( _Romeo and Juliet_ sounded like a joke considered their relationship) when Shion brought up his curiosity towards his true name again. Surprisingly, those words had had a strong effect on Shion. His eyes had widened and he had stayed silent for a while, ignoring the mice's attempts at catching his attention. Then he had laughed, shaking his head.

_"You're right. I won't ask again."_

_Nezumi_ , _Nezumi_ , _Nezumi_.

The wind still called his name.

It was a stupid thought, probably he was daydreaming, soaked to the bones and boots leaving a trail of muddy steps behind him. But here he was and as he looked up at the open window, the fleeting curtains stretched towards his shocked gaze and the wind whispered his name just like it did eight years ago.

Could a sign save his life once again?

†

Shion didn't remember leaving the window open while working all night for the upcoming meeting. He didn't even remember falling asleep on said paperwork despite three pots of coffee.

In the unconscious state of his mind, he felt fingers tracing down his cheek till to stroke the red mark on his neck. The touch was gentle and strangely familiar as the silver laughter following when he stirred up slightly with half-lidded eyes and the expression of who hadn't slept enough in a long while.

"And here I thought you lived in a royal mansion worthy of a prince. Have you fallen into disgrace during my absence?"

Even the sarcastic voice speaking now was rather familiar. Was he dreaming again?

"Yes…?" Shion mumbled, eyes squinting in the dark room and unsure what he was agreeing on with. There was a figure crouched beside him, grey eyes piercing into his and elegant features beaded with raindrops.

"Yes?"

The figure laughed again and no, it wasn't a dream. It couldn't be a dream because the fingers still touching his jawline and that smirk were too vivid and it was still raining and the wind was still singing _his name_. As realization hit and sunk, washing away the last shreds of sleepiness, Shion jolted awake and stood up so quickly that Nezumi had to step back or he would fall on the floor.

"Nezumi?!"

The taller man blinked and whatever witty remark came to mind vanished as he locked gaze with Shion. A moment before he was stroking the sleeping man, lost in the soft warmth of his body and the need of the intimate contact he longed for… and now he was staring right into the abyss of mysterious eyes, unable to detect if Shion was happy or sad or angry to see him. At this exact moment, he couldn't say a word, he couldn't know what to do and it was like coming back to days where he even lied to save Shion from himself.

"You're late."

"What?"

When Shion spoke again, he looked a bit annoyed. Nezumi couldn't exactly blame him. Four years was still a long period of time… Who would wait four years for a teenage promise?

"I said you're late."

"I know."

A hand stretched towards Nezumi, hesitantly brushing a wet lock from of his eyes. The feeling of Shion's fingers tracing his facial features brought up stronger emotions that Nezumi kept stoically hidden under the facade of cold eyes. Inevitably he leaned in the touch, biting down his lips to prevent them from quivering. He started sighing for this man four years ago after all and nothing hadn't changed.

"Welcome home, Nezumi."

Those words carried a flare of hope that broke everything Nezumi was holding on. He took Shion's hand in his and kissed his knuckles tenderly, impressing apologies in the touch. 

_I'm sorry. I didn't want you to wait for me for so long. Please, forgive me._

The quiet tremble in response anticipated Shion's tears and before they knew, Nezumi was holding him against his chest and his eyes were closed shut.

They had just met and Shion broke all his beliefs once again. Nezumi didn't need a real answer. He didn't need to know who he was, because he knew that already. He was the man Shion patiently waited for years and it didn't care if Shion never knew his real name, just the way he called him like crashing a caress against his cheek, just the intimacy hidden in the way he spoke the name _Nezumi_ , just the soft way his lips quirked up as he saw him despite the faux attempt at being angry, it was enough to make Nezumi sure he was this kind of man. The one coming back to Shion.

"I'm home."

He whispered once Shion stopped crying and they stayed in each other's arms, foreheads touching and lips inches apart. If they kissed now, it wouldn't smell of promises or goodbyes. It would smell of home.


End file.
